


Under False Pretense

by QuirkyRandomChika



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 07:45:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuirkyRandomChika/pseuds/QuirkyRandomChika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night after their first encounter with Moriarty, John's 'injury' acts up. It's Sherlock to the rescue!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under False Pretense

**Author's Note:**

> Short little one-shot fic idea I had. Johnlock if you squint. Funny fluff!

Red, searing pain begins creeping up the leg of a former army doctor as he tosses and turns about, swearing subconsciously. He was attempting sleep, no easy a task, whilst his heart still pumped furiously inside. John Watson had quite literally became a human bomb only mere hours ago, and he could still feel the weight of the vest.

Another seize of his calves makes him cry out, and the man can only hope the plush pillow can muffle it. Though, in all honesty, he  _knew_ the injury was superficial, a crutch for his mind to hold onto.

Sherlock had explained  _that_ more than enough times over.

But bloody hell, it still  **hurt** , no matter what, and he was on the verge of tears.

It's then that the smooth tenor voice of his, er _acquaintance_  so to say (though John highly doubted they were still at the stage, they  _had_ faced death together) ripples out onto the crisp night air.

"John."

It's near supernatural, the way he speaks now. A chill dances up his spine.

"S-Sherlock? My leg, my b-bloody leg is cramping!" John screams again.

"I believe I've told you, John, your injury only sustains through the mind, it's hardly possible there's any  _physical_ damage to your ligaments."

"Then-ah!-tell me why I can feel it burning!"

"Simple. Your brain seems to be having some post traumatic stress reaction to what happened at the pool this evening. It happens to be triggering your false psychosomatic attachment, and using it as a crutch once more."

The doctor attempts to turn to face the detective, only succeeding in making his 'ailment' worse.

"AH! Then how am I supposed to make it s-stop!"

He imagines a frown on Sherlock's face.

"Refocus on an alternative thought process, John. Really, I thought I was rubbing off on you!"

"What bloody thought process!?"

"Oh, I don't know John," Sherlock slaps his thighs, waving his arms around in frustration. "Unicorns, Rainbows? Whatever makes that ridiculous head of yours happy!"

"I'm not gay!"

John can almost  _hear_ the detective roll his eyes.

"Just focus on happy things, John!"

Happy. If he even remembered the definition of the word. The last few months, all he had managed was to catch a drug administrating cabbie, bring down a downright bizarre Chinese mafia gang, and play a stupid game with some homosexual  _psychopath_  with a crush on Sherlock that involved murdering people!

_Oh._

In a flash, the pain creeps away, and he is able to face the ridiculous man looming over his bed.

"Very well done, John."

With a blurry gaze, he squints his eyes at his colleagues grin, mischievous, but satisfied.

"I'm making tea."

Later in into the night, after shushing Ms Hudson back to her room, the two men sit opposite one another, sipping herbal tea, contemplating the ridiculous endeavor they were just engaged in.

Sherlock breaks the ice with an alarming confession.

"You know John, I honestly believed  _you_ were Moriarty, if only for a second."

The doctor nearly spews his beverage.

"Wow, I don't know to be flattered, or angry. Honestly?"

He nods."It made the perfect disguise, a timid man with little intelligence."

The man snorts.

"Thanks."

"I must ask, what was it that you thought of, that ceased the pain so effortlessly?"

John creases his brow in a minuet moment of thought, and answers.

"Surprisingly, you."

Sherlock's eyes go impossibly wide, making the others face burn.

"Us, I mean, er..."

The detective slyly swallows his tea.

"But, John, I was under the assumption you were... heterosexual."

"Dammit, Sherlock!"


End file.
